I've Been Doing Something Wrong

It is safe to say that I have never had a boyfriend. I've dated plenty but I've never been bound to someone by labels. In some ways this is good (so I've been told) and other ways not so good. We're all quite aware of my stunted social skills but there has yet to be a scientific study that proves correlation, let alone causation, when it comes to stunted social skills and lack o' boyfriends.

It hasn't even bugged me until lately. And the fact that it's bugging me now, is bugging me. So let us examine this a little deeper shall we.

I have a sister who is a serial monogamist, or something like it, basically she traps boys in to hanging on for a long time, then breaks up with them, says super nasty things about the girls they date next and then pretends they are friends again. This seems like a fairly typical scenario, I've seen some chick-flicks so I would know. But what is so intriguing about her whole set up is this whole gift thing. Almost without fail any serious ex-boyfriend starts giving her expensive gifts about a year or so after they break up. Like a TV. And that's after they've broken up!

So, issue number 1: Gifts. I want gifts, and not selfish I want things things, and not a TV, but gifts like, "Oh yeah I saw this trinket and thought of you!" gifts.

Also there is a rash of engagements and weddings. I would like one of those. And I am well aware that not all cultures require a boyfriend prior to engagement, in fact, I can think of a few that discourage such behavior but alas I am not a part of any of these cultures. And don't give me that "but people are waiting longer to get married" stuff. I know they are. I only know one or two people who were married before they were 20, though both my grandmothers and my mother were married before they were 20, so yeah waiting until you're 23 is like so waiting!

Issue 2: I'm being left in the dust.

I'm not really in a place socially or economically to have a boyfriend, so yeah throwing a wedding won't be happening anytime soon either. I live with my mother. I live with my mother 10 miles from the nearest town. I live with my mom 10 miles from the nearest town which is yet another 10 miles from anything to do. All that and I have two jobs and very little money.

Issue 3: I am a socially unattractive boomerang living in the boondocks. It weighs on me to type that sentence.

All issues aside, I'm lacking in confidence at the moment, and by moment I mean the last say seven years have lent their hands to this undermining feeling of inadequacy. I need a coach. And a therapist. And new shoes (this being the most pressing of the three, of course).

A little help?

Mending: My New Favorite Hobby

Way, way back in the day the ladies of the house used to sit around in the evening fixing the family's clothes by the fireside. Picture rocking chairs and a warm glow. Maybe some pipe smoke, and I'd like to think tomorrow's bread.

Today I don't have that wonderfully nostalgic scene to mend in. Usually I am stuck either on my knees next to an ottoman or my bed squinting at holes and thread. Mending is not a blind person's job, yet I toil on. Why, you ask? Well, because somehow the thighs of all of my workout pants decided to disintegrate at the same time. All of my cardigans have what appear to be moth holes but are probably just pulls at the same time. My hems have all fallen out at the same time. My skirts need taken in and my straps need taken up, all at the same time.

I should see a professional. Should but can't. Somehow the summer time is the time that I find myself most broke. I don't get it, other than my car insurance being due it isn't that much different than any other season. Not only am I the most broke during the summer, I've discovered that I don't have complete outfits for the summer, I have summer skirts, a dress or two but no tops. All of my shirts are summer inappropriate. My shoes less so but they're still lacking and I only own one acceptable pair of shorts, and their white, and I'm messy.

So my broke, summer-clothesless self is mending the thigh holes in hopes that, instead of buying new versions of clothes I already have, I can buy new things to spice up the entire wardrobe... Ann Taylor has some wide leg jeans, I'd like to try, only $98.

Show a Boomerang Some Love

Why do you not look at the other blog?

It cries about you not reading it.

A Place to Lay My Head

Ok, so here's the thing, logistically I've screwed myself, maybe. Over the weekend I went on a I-Need-A-Job-Panicked job hunt. I applied to everything and anything I am either interested in or qualified for. And someone bit. Before you WooHoo! too loudly, it's an unpaid internship (still good) in NYC (not so good).

I've considering all my options here:

1. Commute. It's impossible, next!
2. Couch surf. It's possible but it would take a kind, generous soul to give up their couch for any length of time, couches are important you know. So, please, kind, generous souled people I'll be tidy just for you!
3. Set up a hammock in a park. Seriously, all I'd need is two trees close enough together to sling my hammock and perhaps a tarp for coverage. It won't be too cold until say October? (Please note this scenario also works for porches and balconies)
4. Sigh and move on. This is a last resort option. I don't want to do this unless there is no other way. It's heartbreaking to even consider this. Don't break my heart people. Just don't do it.

If you think of something else, or know of a spot in a park, let me know.

Here's to taking advantage of every opportunity that comes my way!

Look Here... It's a Tan!

I have a tan. Yes, a tan.

Now, now don't get your panties wadded just yet. I am even nude-panty tan, but I'm not going to let you tell me that that is not a tan. I only had a bit of bad luck burn on my shoulder, faded fast enough with very little pain. I did end up with ankle foot rash from my fancy sun allergy.

Don't judge me. I love the sun, it's just a volatile relationship, I know, I admit it, but you can't keep me from going back, I won't let you!

All joking aside, the fancy sunbrella with SPF 100 plus my super special Coppertone Water Babies SPF 50, reapplied every hour on the hour works. Thanks science!

Vacation

Dudes give me a break I was at the beach.

Tell you all about it later on, perhaps after I get home from work this evening?

Abandoned by Facebook Friends

There is a car commercial out there where a girl sits behind a computer confessing she is worried about her parents' social lives. The commercial is a disgusting, though potentially true, depiction of the generation gap. I laughed at it, believing that I am above it, sort of.

Then, today, I went to post something on the wall of a friend only to discover that we are no longer friends. This is the second time in a week that I have realized that I have been unfriended. The first one didn't hurt so much, it was a former classmate that I was never particularly close to, but today, that hurt.

It hurt not because I have one less facebook friend but because facebook was the medium of communication with this particular friend who has a habit of being challenged by life and disappearing into the unknown for periods of time. And, please don't tell him this, I look up to him, I need him because I am also not sure what is going on.

Granted our struggles are worlds apart, and I tend to find out about his though strange sourced, but he is/was a a buddy though it all. Usually he was just a laugh. And a laugh is pretty important at this point in my life.

So here's to missing my facebook friend. A tear shed.

Operation Ada Jane

Set some long term goals today. Proud of them. Proud of myself.

I think I'll start using full sentences from this point forward.

The whole thing kind of stems from my youngest sister's status as a rising high school senior, which isn't a big deal to my life plan except that when she graduates high school my mother will sell the house and move to wherever seems super relevant at the time. So unless I've found a real job, I'll be out of luck and out of time.

So with my dear mother's help we've devised Operation Ada Jane. It is a plan that it's name sake perfected at the age of 17. She worked it hook line and sinker. I shall too.

Unfortunately, I'm working with smarter targets, driven targets. Unfortunately, said targets have been on to my varying versions of Operation Ada Jane for years. Maybe that will make it harder, maybe easier. And I'd ask your opinion but Operation Ada Jane has to be a secret or it will never work. And it has too, Operation Ada Jane is a comfortable future, not dazzling but cozy and sweet, which at this point is more than enough for me. 

If Operation Ada Jane is a successful I'll be set.

Wish me luck!

Stupid First Food Group

Popcorn lung is a serious condition, super serious. It happens when the chemicals from popcorn butter are inhaled and causes the lung cancers.

Today, while risking my health for a super tasty treat I was almost met with an untimely demise. Not from popcorn lung but from a popcorn husk in the lung.

A word of advice: don't inhale those things.

It hurts and then chocking hurts. And it all hurts.

The Sadness of the TV Accent

After dinner last night and the movie tonight, I'm wishing more and more I had an interesting accent. I actually wish that on top of an accent I spoke more than one language, its not only useful it's cool. And cool is what I'm striving for (I have a life goal: Become an interesting person). The problem with my accent, which when I was studying in England made me easy to identify as American, lacks a distinct region.

People can tell I'm American, past that they've got nothing. So do I start imitating people's more interesting dialects or just embrace my own universally understood American?

I don't want to be fake, that defeats the purpose, so instead of imitation I have to stick with my original accent, and use my diction to stand apart.

My spoken language is rather interesting, my mother finds it amusing to imitate, my sisters find it amusing to mock. I cannot tell if they way I speak has people looking at me sideways out of curiosity or because they think I'm silly or stupid. In my insecurity I fear the latter but I always hope for the former.

After all of my failed interviews I'm beginning to think faking a southern accent would do more for me than not.

Anyone willing to coach?

The Important Food Groups

I'm back on being tubby me again, I've gained three pounds. And you're like that's three pounds, that's nothing, you're a crazy person. And you're right.

But three pounds on a skinny person is not the same as three pounds on someone my size. I float somewhere between average and fat. Three pounds can make or break my entire wardrobe. Three pounds can keep me happy or send me into a tail spin.

So where did these three pounds come from?

 I blame the major food groups: Popcorn, candy, dairy! and coffee.

Food groups aside I am a fairly healthy eater. So what do I do to fix my three pounds, maybe fix 50 pounds?
Well friends, I don't starve well. Starving actually makes me put on weight. I mean I have a gym membership, and I've neglected it a little in the last three weeks. I could go back there on a regular basis, say five days a week for no less than an hour. I could do that. I should do that. But I have so few things going on that I just can't get motivated.

Also today I had a small panic attack over bacon. No, I didn't eat a whole pound in one sitting, rather I was eating a single strip of bacon and like they say it tried to kill me. Not by clogging my arteries, no, that takes time. No, I just choked on it. I panicked because I was home alone and choking on a strip of bacon, feeling tubby, only to have all of my insecurities exacerbated by the bacon.

Sleeping On It

After yesterday one would think that there would be some regret. But outside the fact that my only current job is with the company that the manager who cussed me works for full time, and that might be a hugely horrid thing, I'm at peace with my fiasco.

With hind sight being as it is so, I must confess that I wish I had been calmer. I wish I could have stayed creepy calm while forcing her into hysterics. I nearly did, but the cussing/lying threw me into a tizzy of my own. That is the one thing I would have changed.

What I find strange is that the store manager didn't call me today. Either she wasn't told or she's waiting for me to call her. I will, she's nice enough, but I will not work with the women who create and escalate the drama. I wish the store had cameras too. Wouldn't that be just grand!

But alas corporate spends time pinching pennies and misses out on the juicy stuff.

What a Day, What a Day!

This is what I did today.

Happy 4th!

Hooray freedom (on several levels)!